


Silent Death

by Cee5



Series: The Return of Sherlock Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crime, Death, Detective stories, Gen, Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:36:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee5/pseuds/Cee5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's return, and when John finds out Mycroft is not the only sibling Sherlock has, life is back to normal in 221B Baker Street. As Lestrade is called to figure out a strange homicide, Sherlock's help is needed again and this time he will have not only the company of Dr. John Watson but also of his sister, Dylan Holmes, who will help put together this intricate puzzle.</p><p>Sequel to 'The return of Sherlock Holmes.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Like Old Times

It was a very grey Monday; the rain was falling outside, against the window. In 221B Baker Street, Dr. John Watson was drinking a cup of black tea and updating his blog. Apart from Sherlock's return, that he had published already, nothing worth the record had happened in the last couple of weeks, so he was finding it hard to write an interesting topic. He was going to start working again after months at home. Sarah had agreed on giving him his old job back as they were needing doctors at the centre. A shame their relationship had gone down the drain, but he could hardly blame himself for that. It was hard to go on a date with Sherlock around, talk about actually keeping a relationship. Well, he could have told Sherlock to get lost but, to be honest, he did need the thrill their adventures had brought him.

John smiled, and looked over the computer. Dylan was sitting right in front of him, writing with her left hand and focused. He had no idea what she was doing but she was certainly more inspired than him.

"So, you're studying?" He asked, pointing the books.

"Hum, not really." She answered, lifting her eyes from the books and putting the pen down. "Just reviewing some assignments from University. Might as well finish correcting them now than later."

"I never asked." He realised. "What do you teach?"

"Psychology." She answered. "I like it and it's pretty easy for me, hardly have to prepare classes…"

Sherlock came out of his room in a commotion, and Dylan and John raised their heads, following his steps. He looked nervous, looking around for something.

"What are you looking for?" John asked.

"Cigarettes." Said Dylan, because Sherlock was too busy looking to answer John. And she turned to Sherlock. "There's no use, I threw them away."

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asked, finally stopping. "Do you have more hidden?"

"Nope. Why would I?" She answered, and got up "But I have this." She grabbed a box of nicotine patches from her bag and came close to him. "Molly really would do anything you ask of her, wouldn't she? Now it's time to try again. You did it once, you can do it again."

"I don't think nicotine patches will help right now." Sherlock said, starting to pace around the apartment again. He picked up his violin and started playing violently.

"Come here." Dylan said, rolling her eyes while looking at John that smiled. "Stop it." She took the violin from his hands and put it in its stand. Then she grabbed his arm and turned the sleeve of his shirt up. She opened the patches' box and put one on his arm.

"I need at least two more." Protested Sherlock.

"One more." She consented. "And that's because you're lucky I like you. Kind of." She put the other patch, pulled the sleeve down and patted his arm kindly. "Be patient. You've been gone for too long; an interesting case will come up again. Why don't you start with the cases you already have? People started sending you e-mails as soon as they heard you were back. If you weren't so picky maybe you wouldn't be so bored. Sometimes, what seems simple, in reality, is not. And if you were able to wait so long when you were with Molly, you can wait a bit more." And she looked at him, opening her eyes in horror. "I can't even imagine what Molly went through, poor girl."

"I had cigarettes with Molly." He contested.

"You have patches with us." She stated, smiling.

Sherlock looked at John that smiled too.

"You're writing on your blog?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. I thought I would start again." And announced. "I'll start working next week."

"Where?" This time was Dylan asking, interested.

"It's in the centre nearby. I worked there before but there were some issues…"

"Oh, it's at Sarah's centre, right?"

John looked at her, surprised.

"How do you know about Sarah?"

"I know about them all. I did tell you I and Sherlock used to send letters to each other."

"You mean, real letters?"

"Yes, real letters. It's more fun! So, are you excited to go back to work?"

"Yeah, I am. And I also need the money, so…"

Sherlock laid down on the couch with his eyes closed, apparently enjoying the effect the nicotine was having on his body.

John and Dylan looked at him and then smiled at each other. Then he got up and opened the fridge to have some water. John followed his steps with his eyes.

"Is that a brain in the fridge?" He asked, pointing, half rising from the chair just to sit again.

Sherlock opened the door again and answered nonchalantly.

"I would say it is."

"For god's sake, don't you have anywhere else to put those things?"

"Oh, that's mine." Dylan said, going back to her papers.

"Yours?" John asked.

"Yes." She answered. "Molly got it for me. I am making an experiment."

"But… you're a psychologist."

"Criminologist, with a degree in Psychology and thinking about studying Forensics next year." Sherlock corrected John, looking at the brain with interest.

Dylan smiled, closing her books.

"That's about right. So, I thought I might as well start making some experiments no one thinks about and surprise everyone when I actually start studying."

"Wait a second, you have two degrees? You're a Criminologist as well?"

"Yes, that's the first thing I study. But Psychology is challenging as well and I like what I am doing now. I got to work with people for a while and that's fun."

"My sister considers an education - or many- a very important thing." Said Sherlock with a tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"I too get bored. And I want to have options of work, just in case." She explained to John. "Okay, I should get going. Thanks for making the tea, John." And she approached Sherlock, gave him a kiss in the cheek and said her goodbyes with a warning. "Stay away from that brain or I will start experimenting on yours."

"How did Molly get you a brain?" He asked, shouting as she was leaving already.

"Oh, I got my own charm!" she shouted back, closing the front door with a noise and leaving.

Sherlock smiled.

"Molly never got me a brain."

John looked at Sherlock who laid on the couch again, staring at the ceiling.

"Okay, that's it. I need to do something and I will be back soon." And without any other word John left the apartment. He came back a few hours later. "There in the corner please."

Sherlock, who was reading something in his computer, got up. Two man came into the apartment, carrying a big box. They placed it in the corner John pointed at and left, closing the door behind them.

"Was it really necessary?" Sherlock asked, looking at the box.

"Yes, it was." John answered. "No more heads on that fridge, or brains or thumbs. You got this new one now. I see your sister is quite like you in more things than I hoped and this way everyone will be happy."

He removed the plastic from the new fridge, happy with what he had done. Sherlock got back to the computer with a smirk on his face.

"So, you got cases?" John asked, after a while.

"Sort of. Boring, obvious things I have no time for." And he sat down in his chair, talking to John. "Listen, I never really got to apologise for what I did. I mean, I did apologise, but… I am sorry for the trouble I caused you. I wouldn't have done it if everybody's safety was not at stake. He would kill everyone."

"I know." John nodded. "It's okay, Sherlock. You explained already. And it's good to have you back. You are as crazy as you always were, but it's good either way."

They smiled at each other, remembering the old adventures and John grabbed the newspaper.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked.

"No, just the normal news. A car accident that killed four people, a couple and their kids. Father fell asleep while driving. A big gas explosion on the outskirts of town, the owner of the house, a woman, died. Another corruption scandal…" He cited, reading the headlines of the newspaper.

"Boring." Said Sherlock with the same old manners.

"But come on, if people have been asking for your help, there must be something interesting there!" John stated, pointing at Sherlock's computer.

"Here, help yourself." Sherlock got up, gave John the computer and laid down again.

"Okay… So, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, my parents and older sister went on a cruise and disappeared and there is no trace of them anywhere. They left on a vacation and were last seen in Italy. After that they never got on board of the cruise again and the police can't find any trace of any of them. I know you are the only one who can help me." This is the first one. What could have happened?"

"Maybe they just wanted to get rid of the younger sister. Not interested." Sherlock said.

John looked at him, wondering why he still got surprised with his answers.

"Another one: "Mr. Holmes, my husband and I got divorced a long time ago, when my son was 7 years old. My ex-husband died two years after, disappeared when he went diving. My son is now twenty two and moved last year to London to study. Two weeks ago he called me saying he had seen his father again. It seems crazy, I know, but he knew him very well and if that is true, as my son says it is, I am afraid of what he might do. Please, help me. I can't leave Brazil right now but I need someone to talk to my son and advise him before he makes something insane. Please Mr. Sherlock, I need your help." She seems quite desperate."

"The ex-husband probably faked his own death to avoid paying the child support and took off. Don't need to be a genius to figure that out."

"She is not asking you to find her husband or how her dead ex-husband showed up in London, she is asking you to help her because of her son."

"Do I look like a father to you?" asked Sherlock. And he answered his own question. "No. So, moving on..."

"Okay…" said John, unsure, looking through the e-mails. "Here. I think my husband has been cheating on me…"

"Oh, not that one again!" Sherlock got up, grabbed the computer from John's hands and typed "Yes, he is cheating on you!"

Then he put the computer on John's hands again, grabbed the violin and started playing once more. John closed the computer and got up to get a book, as continuing going through his e-mails wouldn't help calm Sherlock down. The door downstairs closed and Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs, singing. As she entered the room Sherlock said, without looking back.

"More flowers, Mrs. Hudson?"

She paused a bit, getting in the apartment, with a bunch of flowers in her hand.

"Yes." She said, looking for a jar in the cupboard. "Aren't they lovely?"

"Stunning." Sherlock said, not even bothering to look.

"Why is everything changed here?" asked Mrs. Hudson, opening door after door.

"Hum, Dylan has been putting things into place." John answered.

"She did a great job. Everything tidy and no lack of food from what I see. Ah, it's here!" Mrs. Hudson finally found a jar, she filled it with water and put them in the centre of the table.

"There." She said "To make your dinners a bit more romantic. I think it needed."

"Mrs. Hudson, our dinners are not supposed to be…" started john, shaking his head.

"Oh, it's okay dear, I am sure Dylan won't mind. And she moved downstairs already, so you can have dinner all by yourselves sometimes. Well, I better get going, I got to tidy up my house a bit."

And she left before John could add anything else.

"How did you know she had flowers?" John asked.

"She's been bringing flowers the entire week. Quite hard to miss."

"And what does that mean?"

"Oh, you know there is a meaning to it. Well spotted, John." Congratulated Sherlock, putting the violin back in its stand. "It means that Mrs. Hudson has been dating the florist on the other side of the street, and that's why she's been getting free flowers. So many she does not even mind sharing with us to make our dinners more… romantic." Sherlock explained, sarcastically.

John laughed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. The afternoon passed in a blur and around 5 p.m. Dylan came back, bringing more books with her and placing them on top of the kitchen table.

"So, how's the afternoon?" she asked, putting the kettle on and preparing three cups of tea.

"Boring." Shouted Sherlock.

"Yes, thank you." Said Dylan. "What a surprise you answer that." And she turned to John. "Has he been giving you too much trouble? You do need to get out of the house more often, you know? He'll go mad."

"I tried but he said he didn't want to go for a walk, so I figured it was a lost battle."

Dylan gave him a stern look and passed him the cup of tea. Then she noticed.

"Do we have a new fridge?" and she held John for a bit. "Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you. Now we have a place to keep our experiments without anyone messing up with them."

"How do you know it was me?" John asked, surprised.

"Well, Sherlock would not bother to go out and buy a fridge, would he?" and she proceeded. "Here, this one's for you, no sugar, that one's for the bored-guy over there." Then she picked up her books. "I've got to check some things but I will come back upstairs to cook dinner around six. But I will be back in a minute to get my lovely brain… which reminds me…" She paused and turned to Sherlock. "Listen up, how long has it been since you last visited Molly?"

"Why are you asking when you know the answer already?" Sherlock replied.

"You've got a point." She realised. "It's been two weeks already. Don't be ungrateful; she gave you a place to stay for months. You are going to get up right now and visit her."

"I don't feel like going out."

"The hell you don't." She held him and pulled him off the couch, grabbed his coat and, in spite of the big size difference, dressed him the coat and pulled the collar up. "Okay, ready to go. Now, off with you. Be nice to her. You owe her and you know it." She picked her own things again and added. "And don't forget to get her something."

"What do you mean, get her something?"

"Oh, Sherlock...Chocolates, flowers… Use your imagination. You have so much pride on your clever brain, use it now." And she left, leaving him there.

John looked at him.

"She's right. You do owe a lot to Molly."

Sherlock sighed with annoyance, looked around, grabbed Mrs. Hudson's flowers and left, leaving a trace of water on the floor.


	2. The Florist Shop

A few hours later Dylan came back.

"Where's Sherlock?" she asked John, who was watching some television.

"Off to see Molly, like you instructed."

"Hum, good." She smiled. "I'm going to make some dinner."

"Oh, thanks." John said, getting up. "Do you want some help?"

"No, just sit here and make me some company." She answered, pointing at the kitchen table. "I take care of the rest."

"Okay, then. It's really nice of you."

"Oh, it's nothing. You two haven't been eating very healthy lately. Sherlock hasn't eaten almost anything, I suppose. So I better take the wheel on this."

"Yeah, he feeds of pure sarcasm." John laughed. "Should we invite Mrs. Hudson for dinner?"

"Oh, she has a date tonight." Dylan said, smiling.

"Oh, yes? Did she tell you that?"

"No, but she cleaned up her house and dressed new clothes she bought today… I assume she will cook something for him, you know, conquer him with food as well with charm. That's a Mrs. Hudson thing."

John laughed.

"She has been dating the grocery owner, right?"

"Oh no, not anymore, since she found out he was charging her more than he should for the groceries, believe it or not. She broke up with him. Filled up the fridge without paying too, and he didn't even stood up. He knew better than to mess with Mrs. Hudson when she is mad." and she laughed. "She is dating the florist on the other side of the street. But you must have known it already?"

"Well, Sherlock did tell me, but I was… testing you." John admitted.

"Oh, testing to see if I am as clever as Sherlock Holmes. Very well Dr. Watson. Still, there's no need to be a genius to figure out she has been dating the florist. She's been bringing flowers the whole week. So, if you didn't deduce that Dr. Watson, shame on you." She pointed out, playfully.

John laughed. Even after so much time living with Sherlock there were things that managed to escape his attention.

They continued to talk and had dinner, knowing it would be no use to wait for Sherlock. After they cleaned the kitchen Dylan announced.

"Listen, I am also going to pay a visit to Molly. We've been talking quite a lot the last couple of weeks and I think she may need my attention, since Sherlock went to see her. Never know how much happiness or damage he can bring. So, if Sherlock returns in the meantime there's still food and he should eat it. I won't be home late."

"Okay, see you later."

She dressed her coat and walked out the door. John paid attention to the TV again. Around 8h30 p.m. he heard Mrs. Hudson leave the apartment, closing the door behind her. About an hour later the door opened again, and inside came the cry of Mrs. Hudson and the voices of Sherlock and Lestrade. John got up when they entered the apartment, Sherlock helped Mrs. Hudson to a chair and Lestrade asked John:

"Can you get her a glass of water? She's a bit shaken."

John nodded, not saying anything and passed the glass with water to Sherlock, who was kneeling next to Mrs. Hudson and gave it to her.

"Here, drink this."

"I should… have gone there soon… He was so late…" Was saying Mrs. Hudson between sobs.

"There's no point in thinking about that now Mrs. Hudson, there's nothing you can do."

Mrs. Hudson cried silently and Sherlock took the glass from her, getting up and turning around. Lestrade took his place next to her.

"What happened?" John asked Sherlock, alarmed. He had never seen Mrs. Hudson like that before.

"The florist man… She found him dead."

"What? How? When?"

"About an hour ago." Answered Sherlock, absentminded. "They were supposed to have dinner at her place around 7 p.m. but he never showed up so Mrs. Hudson went to the store and nobody answered. The shop was already closed, she went through the back door and there he was, on the floor. She called 911 and they called Scotland Yard. He was dead, not breathing."

"But, how?"

"That's the question. They took him to make an autopsy."

"What do you think happened? Heart attack? What?"

"No. He was pink."

"Pink?" John thought for a moment. "Asphyxiated?"

"Yes, most likely. But no signs of struggle or any marks on his neck, so I would say he was poisoned by carbon monoxide. The thing is, the store had nothing that could provide a source of carbon monoxide. If it was gas it would smell, but there was no smell of gas there."

"So, assuming it was carbon monoxide, how did he get poisoned if there was no source?"

"Well, that has to be a source."

Lestrade was holding Mrs. Hudson's hand and soothing her when the door downstairs opened and closed again with a loud noise. Urgent steps came running up the stairs and Dylan entered the room, panting.

"Sherlock, it's the flowers!"

"The flowers?" Sherlock asked, looking around, not understanding what she was saying.

"Yes, the flowers! The flowers Mrs. Hudson brought! They are poisoned!"

"How do you know?"

"Well, you took the ones we had here to give Molly. I saw the flowers and they seemed fine but as I was about to leave I noticed something in the water. It has some particles in the bottom that are slightly yellow. Those flowers were bought today. There's no way the water would get like that so fast. If you hadn't take them you would see in our jar, but John must have thrown the water away."

"I did." John said. "I didn't see anything in the water."

"Yes, it's very subtle. But I analysed it and it's there, no doubt. Tacere Mors."

"Silent Death." Sherlock recognised the Latin words.

"What's that? Tacere…?" John asked, looking from Dylan to Sherlock.

"Yes, it's Latin. It means, like Sherlock said, silent death". She explained. "It's the name of a deadly poison that kills slowly and you don't feel it. It was fairly recently discovered and usually works with plants and flowers. You see, when in contact with the flowers it turns their oxygen into carbon monoxide and they will expel amounts of it, instead of the regular oxygen. It's not dangerous in a small scale, a bunch of flowers will wither before they have the power to kill you, but in a big scale it will be as if you went to sleep leaving the gas open, but with no odour. So, you will feel dizzy, with a headache, tired, nauseated….. You eventually may think you're sick and go to sleep, or you will lose consciousness, and it will just kill you. Silently."

"It has already killed." Sherlock stated, nodding in Mrs. Hudson direction. She was still crying but a little bit more quietly, leaning against Inspector Lestrade.

"Oh, no, what? No!" Dylan said, getting close to Mrs. Hudson and hugging her.

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"I don't know how did this happen, he was such a nice person."

Dylan looked at Sherlock, not knowing what else to say.

"You need to rest Mrs. Hudson. We will figure out what happened." Lestrade assured her.

"I'll take her downstairs." Dylan volunteered, grabbing Mrs. Hudson's hand and leading her to her apartment.

"So," Lestrade asked. "You think that's what killed him? That poison Dylan was talking about?"

"Well, the flowers did have that, Dylan analysed them. So I have a reason to believe the others flowers might have the same as well. There was a pretty big amount of flowers in that shop, obviously."

"But why? Why would they kill the man?"

"I don't know Inspector. It's up to you to find out. Please let me know as soon as you get the results from the lab." Sherlock asked.

"Will do. I'll ask someone to come and take the flowers too, to check them for the poison." Added inspector Lestrade. "I will keep you up to date."

"Thank you." Sherlock said, as Lestrade left the apartment. Then he sat at the table, with his hands palm to palm, touching his lips.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked.

Dylan came up the stairs before Sherlock could answer.

"I gave a sleeping pill to Mrs. Hudson. She needs to get some rest." And added, sitting in another chair next to Sherlock. "I guess there are no more free flowers for us."

John looked at her, surprised she was mentioning free flowers when a man was dead.

"I am sorry." She apologised, ashamed. "I'm an idiot sometimes." And turned to Sherlock. "We need to ask Mrs. Hudson what she knows about him, why would someone kill him? He seemed like a nice man."

"Maybe the flowers were not for him." Sherlock answered.

"What do you mean, not for him?"

"Well, Mrs. Hudson was bringing flowers home every day. Lots of them. For her and for us. Maybe she mentioned she gave them to us as well."

"Yes, what if she did? You can't seriously believe someone would try to kill you like that, can you? A bunch of flowers, really?" she asked.

"Wait," asked John, turning to Sherlock. "You think the flowers were meant for you?"

"I don't know." Sherlock answered.

"No." Dylan dismissed the idea. "If someone was trying to kill you, they would find other ways to use the poison, not in flowers. I don't think they would try something that would probably fail like that. :and who the hell would try to kill you anyway? "

"Hm." Was all Sherlock answered.

Dylan got up and said to John.

"We won't get anything from him today. Might as well get some sleep."

"Okay." John agreed. "How was Molly?"

Dylan looked at Sherlock who was already lost in his mind palace.

"She will be okay. She's… She misses him."

John nodded and Dylan left the apartment as he followed her.

"Okay, so… I am going to sleep." John announced.

"Hm." Was also the answer he got from Sherlock. Dylan was right, he had better leave him alone. Inspector Lestrade would have more news in the morning and John needed a good night's sleep.

 


	3. It's a Family Thing

John came from his room and into the living room. Sherlock was on the phone while eating a pancake Dylan had made. A pile of at least 10 more was lying on a plate, and she was sitting in Sherlock's chair reading a book. She rose her head when John walked in, smiling.

"Okay, we'll go there right away." Sherlock said to the phone and hung up.

"What was it?" Dylan asked. She got up and picked the plate of pancakes from the kitchen table and offered it to John. Before he could take any Sherlock took another one and ate a bit.

"These are delicious!" Sherlock said.

John accepted the pancake and laughed.

"Thank you." He said to Dylan.

"Okay, we need to go." Sherlock announced, finishing the pancake and putting on his coat.

"Where to?" John asked.

"Scotland Yard. They are investigating people. Lestrade asked me if I would like to be there. And of course I said yes. Let's go?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Both Dylan and John put on their coats as well and followed him into the street. They took a taxi together and Inspector Lestrade was waiting for them as soon as they got to Scotland Yard.

"Dylan!" He exclaimed as soon as he saw her. "You came as well!"

"Yes, you don't think I would miss an investigation?"

"Good, good." Lestrade said. "We are trying to gather a few people that may be related with the case. We started with the employee from Mr. Colbert – that was the deceased's name – and since we are going to listen to him I figure you might want to hear his version of the story."

"Of course I do." Sherlock said, removing his scarf and following inspector Lestrade.

Inside DI Lestrade's office was a young man. He had a sharp nose and long hair that he tied on a ponytail. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and looked as if he hadn't slept well in a while.

"This is Mr. Charles Stevenson. He was the only employee Mr. Colbert had." Lestrade introduced him to Sherlock. "Do you mind telling us what happened during yesterday?"

"Yeah, sure." The man agreed. "It was quite a big shock you know, when they called me this morning. I was getting ready to go to work and they called and said Mr. Colbert was dead. I mean, I saw him yesterday and he was okay…"

"So, what happened yesterday? People from the other shops said you left in the beginning of the afternoon…"

"Yeah, that's right." He said. "I came in the morning to work but I began to feel a bit dizzy and sick. I wasn't feeling well so I asked Mr. Colbert if I could go home."

"And he consented?"

"Yes. He was always cool with me when I was sick or had to do something during working hours. He just let me go. I never thought about calling or checking on him, I mean, it was not the first time he worked alone."

"Did Mr. Colbert have any family?"

"Not that I know. I knew he wasn't married nor had kids and he never mentioned any close family. Not that we talked too much about it. I asked him once but he didn't seem too keen on talking about that subject. He lived alone; the store was his treasure, that's what he used to say."

"Any friends you know?"

"Not really. Nobody ever went to the shop apart from Mrs. Hudson, who was actually the only girlfriend I knew. But I only work there for six months. He wasn't exactly the going out type. When I asked him how the weekend was he always answered that he had stayed in watching football. So I guess not."

"So, you don't know of anyone who may have wanted to kill him?"

"No, I mean, he was a very reserved man, so if he had any enemies, I don't know, it's not like he talked all that much about himself."

"What about the guy who delivers the flowers? Do you have delivers every day?"

"Yes. We usually have the flowers brought in every day. Of course some of the flowers are from the day before, and the plants are always good, but we sell very well, so we always have daily delivers."

"Did you have a flower's delivery that day then? "

"Yes. Before the shop opened for the public."

"Did you know the company who brings the flowers? Is it always the same person to make the delivery?"

"Usually yes, it's Morgan. He's a nice guy. You don't think he is involved in…?"

"We don't know yet. As you have been told, Mr. Colbert was poisoned and that poison was in the flowers, so we have to check every possibility."

"I see. So I am a suspect as well? That's why you are asking me so many questions?"

Lestrade nodded. Before Charles could say anything more Sherlock asked.

"Does that Morgan delivers flowers anywhere else?"

"Yeah, almost every shop in the neighbourhood. They have nice prices and the flowers are always nice too."

Sherlock nodded and asked another question.

"What were you doing yesterday in the morning when you were working?"

"What was I doing? I am sorry, I don't understand…"

"What kind of work were you doing?"

"Oh, that. I was pulverizing the plants and the flowers."

"Pulverizing?"

"Yeah." Charles said. "We use some product to make the flowers look fresher. So when they come in we pulverize them with that product and they look like they are still covered in dew… It makes them look nicer."

"And you do that every day?"

"Yes."

"And you did that yesterday as well?"

"Yes, it's usually me who does it. Why?"

"That's all I need to know." Sherlock ended and turned to Lestrade.

"Check the pulverizing water they use."

"Do you think the poison it's in the water?"

"I am pretty sure it is in the water they use to pulverize. If it was in the flowers other shops would have the same problem, complaints of sickness at least. And none did, right?"

"No. We checked with everyone early in the morning. We analysed samples of the flowers and everyone else was clean." And Lestrade asked. "So you think that the poison was not put in the flowers but in that specific water?"

"Yes. It's a way of doing it. It would work as the flowers would absorb the poison anyway, and since no flowers from other shops were poisoned…. It's the only logical way." Sherlock pointed.

"Okay. We'll check those things and see." Lestrade consented.

And Sherlock turned to Charles again.

"Who delivers those pulverizing products? Do you know him?"

"Yes, he is a friend of mine."

"I will need his name and contacts."

"He is outside but I don't…"

"Oh, is he? Great."

And with no further ado Sherlock left the office, ignoring Lestrade's call. Dylan and John followed him.

"Do you think it was the guy that delivers the pulverizing?" Dylan asked.

"I guess we'll find out." Was all Sherlock said.

A young couple was talking on the hall, close to each other.

"Hi, are you the pulverizing delivery guy?" Sherlock asked.

"Excuse me?" the young man said, looking at Sherlock.

"The pulverizing for the flowers." He asked inpatient. "Do you deliver it?"

"Hum… yes, I… I do…"

"Hum. And was it you who poisoned the pulverizing water?"

"What?" he asked, scoffing and looking at Sherlock as if he was a mad man.

At that moment Charles and inspector Lestrade came out of the office.

"Listen, he can't have poisoned the water!"

"Why not?" asked Sherlock, turning around.

"Because that water was delivered a long time ago, the one I've been using right now. It comes in flasks of spray. And it has always been fine. So, if it's in the water that poison that you talk about, then someone put it there. It was not delivered like that."

"Very well." Sherlock said. He looked at the other man again. "I guess you are free to go for now. Still need to make a few more questions to your friend, though." He informed, and he, John and Lestrade went inside the office again, followed by Charles.

Dylan got close to the couple and said.

"I am sorry. He's a bit impulsive sometimes. I didn't want to upset you or your girlfriend."

"I am not his girlfriend." The girl said. "We're just friends. I am Charles' girlfriend." She added.

Dylan looked at her, from head to toe and mumbled an apology.

"Sorry for the misunderstood. I figured you two were together."

"No, we're just friends. Actually, Rob here is my brother's friend but my brother couldn't come and he was keeping me and Charles company."

"Well, we are just interrogating. At this time we really have to be suspicious of everyone."

"Listen, is Charles going to be involved in any of this? He's he being interrogated because you think he might have killed Mr. Colbert?"

"Like I said, we have to interrogate everyone. We are just eliminating possibilities." Dylan answered.

The girl didn't add anything else, just nodded.

"What is your name?" Dylan asked.

"Margaret. Why?"

"We may need to call you for interrogation as well. So don't take any of this the wrong way. It's the procedure."

Margaret nodded and looked at Rob and both her and him left the building.

When Dylan got into the office again Sherlock was finishing his questions.

"Okay, so you didn't leave your house on Monday evening?"

"I am telling you I just went to a friend's house and then went home. Listen, I have no reason to see Mr. Colbert dead. He was a nice boss and I just lost the best job I ever had. Why would I want to kill him? He always paid on time and never got me into trouble."

"Fair enough." Said this time inspector Lestrade. "Okay, I have no reason to keep you here anymore. Let us know if you remember anything that may be of help."

"I will escort him to the exit." Sherlock volunteered.

He came back a few minutes later.

"Very well, Inspector Lestrade." He began. "I guess we heard one of the stories. There are a few things I need to think about. Let me know when you talk to the flowers' delivery man."

Lestrade agreed and Sherlock, Dylan and John went out the door.

Sherlock put his scarf on again and informed Dylan:

"You'll have a date tonight."

"What?"

"A date. With Charles. I gave him your number."

"And why would you do that?"

"Oh, you didn't see the way he looked at you? He was thrilled when I asked him if he wanted your number."

"Don't be ridiculous Sherlock, he's got a girlfriend."

"Well, that didn't seem to stop him from accepting your phone number."

Dylan didn't say anything. Her cell phone beeped. A message.

"He didn't waste any time." Sherlock said, a smirk in his smug face.

Dylan looked at Sherlock and at John and read the message out loud.

"Hi! I know we just met but I felt we had some kind of connection and that crazy inspector gave me your number. What about having some coffee together today? Charlie."

"Great." Dylan said. "I don't know what went through your mind."

"Well, he may have some things he may not feel comfortable to share with me. Specially when he thinks I am some "crazy inspector". I could use some side investigation." Sherlock added.

"Why don't you go and have coffee with him?" Dylan asked, sarcastic.

"He's not my type." Sherlock answered in the same tone. They walked silently for a while and then John asked:

"Now what? Isn't Lestrade going to investigate more people?"

"Yes, but he needs to try to find out some connections. He will interrogate the flowers' man anyway."

"It is not in the flowers." Insisted Dylan. "You heard what Charles said. He started to feel dizzy and sick after he was pulverizing the flowers the whole morning. Which makes perfect sense since Lestrade already said there were no other casualties in other stores, nor the samples they took showed any sign of the poison. Most likely someone put the poison in the spray bottles that were being used."

Sherlock nodded.

"Still, they have to do it. It's the procedure." And added. "I am going to visit Molly. You go and answer that message and see what you can find. We'll see each other tonight. Use your charm." He said, smirking.

John smiled as well and Dylan made a face at both of them. Then Sherlock called John.

"Come on, John. Let's see if Molly has any more presents for us."

"What do you mean by presents?" John asked, unsure.

"He wants brains." Dylan said, getting away from them and getting out of sight.

Molly was coming out of the lab when Sherlock entered, followed by John.

"Hi!" she said, surprised. "I didn't know you were going to show up today."

"Yes, I need to check something. Can I use the microscope? John here can make you company for a coffee."

John looked at Sherlock. Why was he ditching him and Molly so suddenly? But he didn't want to be rude to Molly.

"Ah, yeah, sure. Shall we go to the cafeteria or outside?"

"We can go to the cafeteria." Molly answered.

Then went in the direction of the cafeteria and Molly looked behind, following Sherlock's steps as he entered the lab.

"Is anything the matter?" she asked John as they sat with a cup of coffee in their hands. "I mean, with Sherlock. He seemed to want to ditch us both."

"I don't know." John admitted. "You know him. The most mysterious consulting detective we'll ever know…"

Molly laughed at the joke.

"So, and how are you?" John asked.

"Oh, you know, everything's normal now. Ordinary." She admitted. "It was quite fun when he was around. Difficult too. He used to be angry sometimes for being there, doing nothing. But mostly it was easy to deal with him."

"So, would you be a possible flatmate? In case I get tired of putting up with him?"

Molly laughed, but did not answer.

"You really like him, don't you?" John asked.

Molly took a while to answer.

"Sherlock… he is… a bit crazy, really. But then again, I seem to have a tendency for crazy guys, look at Jim, for example." She half smiled embarrassed. "But he is not as bad as everyone thinks. I mean, he drives anyone crazy and he is the most conceited person I met, not a shred of modesty there… But then again, he has reasons to. He's clever. And he says the most horrible things sometimes, but when he is nice, at least I know he really means it."

John looked at Molly's face and saw all the pain. For so many years, he was sure, she has been in love with Sherlock. She knew, deep down, that they would never be together but, somehow, she couldn't forget him. She always ended up coming back to him.

"But I am not stupid and I know we'll never… that nothing will ever happen between the two of us. So, it's okay. I am okay. And I have a date tomorrow anyway, so I can't really keep thinking about Sherlock anymore."

"Oh, really? That's great!" said John, surprised.

"Yes, and very good guy… You may know him." She smiled. "It's… It's Greg…"

"As in inspector Lestrade?" Sherlock's voice resonated through the entire cafeteria and Molly spilled a bit of her coffee on the table. John grabbed a napkin and helped her clean it. She looked embarrassed now.

"Yes." She answered. There was a tone of defiance in her voice.

"Hum. I guess it took him long enough since the Christmas party."

"Christmas party?" Molly inquired. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't notice the way he was looking at you? Pretty hard to miss, but then again I guess you miss a whole lot of things that are right in front of your eyes."

"Sherlock!" John shouted. That was no way to talk to Molly.

Molly and Sherlock were looking at each other now silently and John figured that there was something there he was missing.

"I am glad Lestrade decided to finally leave his adulterous wife. He found someone better."

Molly got up.

"I… It's not…"

"Spare us details, Molly, you do not need to apologise for anything. Thank you for letting me use the lab. We should be going now. John?"

John apologised to Molly and left behind Sherlock.

"What the hell was that?"

"What the hell was what?"

"Don't play stupid with me Sherlock."

"I don't usually play stupid John. People usually play stupid it far better than I do."

"If that's an attempt to be funny, you failed." John stated.

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Then what was that? Between you and Molly?"

Sherlock stopped abruptly and turned to John, looking right at his face.

"That was nothing. Molly ends up hurting herself every time. She is too good."

"Lestrade is good too." John pointed out. "So I don't see why you are so upset. Don't try to stop Molly from being happy just because you feel flattered she has feelings for you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, I am the one who is being ridicul…"

"Yes, you are."

And without adding anything else or allowing John to say anything Sherlock walked home in 221b Baker Street, took off his coat and picked up the violin, playing to the night.

Dylan came home a few hours later. She took the coat off and sat in the couch. Sherlock was still playing the violin but stopped when she came in.

"Any news?" He asked.

John was in his room but came downstairs as soon as he heard Sherlock stopping with the music. He walked in the living room when Dylan began to speak.

"Yes. Took me quite a few glasses of wine, but we may be into something here."

"Are you talking about Charles?" John asked.

"Yes. As I realised when I first saw him, he is an alcoholic. He hasn't said anything different to me than he did to you or Lestrade." She said to Sherlock. "But I got his girlfriend's number."

Sherlock nodded.

"Good. Will you talk to her tomorrow?"

"Yes, just as soon as I finish my lessons."

"What are you two talking about? Why would you want to talk with his girlfriend?"

"Because John," Dylan explained. "Charles is an alcoholic and he beats her up."

"What? How can you know that?"

"First of all, I saw from the way his hands were shaking on the interrogation. He was not nervous, he didn't do anything wrong, or at least he is a very good actor. But his hands were shaking nevertheless. And his girlfriend – her name's Margaret, by the way – she had bruises. Many bruises on her arms and neck. They were semi-concealed with make-up, but it was still noticeable. So, that tells us that Charles beats her up."

"We should take her to the police so she can report him, then."

"She won't do it. It is not a new situation, I am sure, and she never accused him. She will not do it so easily."

"So why do you want to talk to her?"

"Because," Sherlock started before Dylan could say anything. "The murder of Mr. Colbert might have been an unfortunate mistake."

"Are you trying to say that the person who killed Mr. Colbert may not have wanted to kill him?"

"What we are saying John is that we can't find a reason why Mr. Colbert was killed. Friendly man, but with no friends, so why would he have enemies? So, in truth, that whole poison thing could have had another target."

"Charles." Dylan finished. "He was the one who used to pulverize the flowers and we are pretty sure the poison was in the pulverizing water. So, if the killer did want to kill Charles…"

"But you can't be sure. I mean, the girl seemed so…"

"Yes, John, we know." Sherlock said. "But sometimes the less likely people are the ones who actually commit the crimes."

"And we really have nowhere else to go." Dylan said. "So I will see what I can get from this."

"So, all of this date plan was to get her number? Wouldn't it be easier just to talk to her?"

"It wasn't to get her number." Sherlock said." I really wanted to be sure he was not involved in the murder."

"Yeah." Dylan agreed." I only thought about getting her number when he needed to go to the bathroom and left his phone on the table. He was drunk as hell, I put him in a cab and he went home after." And she asked Sherlock. "When did you realise there was a possibility he was the actual target?"

"At Scotland Yard. I saw his girlfriend, the bruises. Then he accepted your phone number. Which made me think he beats her and obviously cheats on her. He worked on the shop as well, so his girlfriend had a reason and a way to kill him."

"Aren't we dramatizing this? We've got a homicide and we are supposed to be investigating suspects from that homicide and suddenly the target is someone else? What kind of prove do we have?"

"Do you have any other idea, John?" Sherlock asked.

"No." John answered, still unsure about the theory he heard.

"Then, we will go with this one." Sherlock sentenced. Then he announced. "I am going to bed. See you tomorrow." And left the living room.

"What is wrong with him?" Dylan asked.

"How do you know that something's…" started John. But then he realised he often forgot how clever Dylan was. "He had some fight with Molly."

"Fight with Molly? About what?"

"Honestly I have no idea. Molly was saying she had a date with Lestrade and next thing I know something was off."

"Lestrade and Molly?" Dylan laughed. "Well, that's something I will like to see."

"Do you think he was jealous?" John asked.

"You mean Sherlock? If I didn't know him well I said he was." And she thought for a moment. "Then again, no one knows what it was like during the months they were living together. Maybe Sherlock is beginning to care." And she laughed, amused with the idea.

"He didn't really choose the right time to care. Since she is going out with Lestrade."

"Ah, it won't last too long, John." Dylan said, a sad glimpse flickered in her eyes.

"Why do you say that?" John asked.

"Molly… Well, Sherlock is an idiot to everyone most of the time. And still, Molly liked him. She is used to have her heart broken by now, and no matter what, Sherlock is the only thing she can't really have and therefore, she wants the most. She will try to fight it, but Lestrade will see. And it will break them apart."

John looked at her.

"You must be the queen of optimism."

Dylan laughed.

"Well, it's getting late. I better get going. I have class in the morning." She got up and took her coat. "And you two better make up. I will not stand in the middle of your fight."

She waved him goodbye and left the apartment. John did not bother ask how she knew they were mad at each other. Of course she knew. She was so kind that he sometimes forgot that, just like Sherlock, nothing escaped her attention.


	4. The Investigation Continues

Dylan got home early in the afternoon. John was sitting on his chair, reading a book.

"Hello." He said, as soon as he saw her, and put the book down.

"Hey, how's it going?" She asked, putting her books on the table and getting something from the fridge. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He left in the morning, wasn't at home when I woke up and hasn't returned yet."

"Oh, didn't leave a note saying where he went?"

"No."

At that moment they heard steps up the stairs. It was Sherlock. He got in the apartment and took off his coat.

"Hello." He said to both of them and picked his computer up.

"Where have you been?" Dylan asked.

"Went for a walk." That's all Sherlock answered. Then he asked. "Did you call the girlfriend?"

"Yes." Dylan answered. "As soon as I left the University. She was not very keen to meet me but I talked her into it. I said I needed her testimony in how she was with her boyfriend the night before the murder. I told her Charles needs an alibi and she seemed to go for it."

"Good." Sherlock said. "I talked to Lestrade. They are going to interview Robert, the flower's spray seller. They can't seem to find a connection nor reason for the murder. So I said we would be there in fifteen minutes." He announced, turning to John.

"Okay, then." Dylan agreed. "I have to go as well, the girl is waiting for me." She dressed her coat again. "Let me know if you hear anything important."

Sherlock nodded. He closed the laptop and called John.

"Shall we go?" John felt that the little fight they had the night before was still present, but he made no objection and followed him.

They took a taxi to Scotland Yard. They walked in the building and heard a familiar voice.

"Where do you two think you are going?"

It was Agent Donovan. She was not happy to see them there, and John knew it was more because of Sherlock than because of him. It would be expected of her to pretend to be pleased, especially when her comments were the reason Sherlock had to pretend to be dead, but a few months later she seemed to have become mad at him again. Well, neither of them, Sherlock nor Donovan, had changed their personality, so it had been really a matter of time until things got back to what they used to be.

"We are helping inspector Lestrade with the investigation." Sherlock answered, looking at her from head to toe.

"So, is he expecting you?"

"Of course he is expecting me. May I go now?" he asked no patience in his voice.

"Sure." She consented, and turned her back on them, leaving the room.

Sherlock walked into Inspector Lestrade's office without knocking. Robert was answering a question and stopped as soon as he saw him.

"Sherlock." Inspector Lestrade greeted. "We were just asking Robert here about his alibi."

"Oh, really?" Sherlock seemed interested. "I would like to hear that."

Everyone looked at Robert, waiting for him to start.

"I already told the Inspector where I was." He said. He did not seem very happy to answer the question again.

"Well, but you didn't tell me. If you wouldn't mind I would like to hear the story myself."

Robert nodded.

"Okay. So, I got off school and I went to Duncan's house…"

"Who is Duncan?" Sherlock interrupted.

"That's a friend of mine. We study together. He's the brother of Charlie's girlfriend, Margaret. You saw her with me outside the other day." He pointed out. And continued. "We were just watching a movie and waiting for his girlfriend to come home from work. Then when she got home I went to my studio. I share it with a friend from Universityl as well. We usually like to play some board games, like role playing games and stuff like that. So we played for a while and then he was tired so he went to sleep and so did I. I had work in the middle of the morning. I had delivers to make. You can ask him if you want. He will tell you the same story." And he paused. "Listen, I know you have to ask everybody that may be involved in the situation, and you already interrogated Charlie and Duncan…"

"Duncan?" This time it was John who made the question. "Isn't he the friend you were just talking about? Why was he interrogated? As your alibi?"

"No, he is the guy who delivers the flowers. He got Charlie the job because he knew Mr. Colbert." he explained. "I already told you that I am not involved in the crime. I mean, I deliver those spray bottles almost every day to different places and no one else had problems."

Sherlock turned to Lestrade.

"Did you confirm his alibi already?"

"No." Lestrade said. "He just got in; we were going to do that next."

"Do you mind if I take care of that?" he asked.

"No. Go ahead. Here is the address."

"He is usually home after 5 p.m. every day, so you should be able to contact him after that hour."

"Very well." Sherlock said, putting the paper with the address in his pocket.

"Can I leave now?" Robert asked. "I would like to go home, I need to study. I missed the morning classes and I have other things to do."

"I haven't finished the interrogation yet. Sorry, we'll let you go as soon as possible." Lestrade said.

Sherlock and John left the office before Lestrade started with the questions again.

"So, do you think he is telling the truth?" John asked Sherlock.

"I guess we'll see when we interrogate his friend."

"But we have to wait now." John said, looking at both sides of the street for a taxi.

"Yes, so we are going to make Dylan's job a bit easier." And without further explanation he shouted: "Taxi!"

A black taxi stopped and they got in. Sherlock gave the address of the little café where Dylan and Margaret agreed to meet.

They got to the café and looked through the window.

"There they are." Sherlock said. And he knocked on the window lightly.

Dylan looked outside and saw the two of them, looking inside. She turned to Margaret and apologised.

"Excuse me. I'll be back in a second." She said and walked to the door to meet Sherlock and John.

"What are you doing here?"

"Making you some company." Sherlock said. "Did you get anything from her already?"

"Yes, a few things." And she looked at him and then inside the café again. "Okay, let's go in. You may be of help with your methods. But, please, keep it low key."

"The café is empty. Apart from you two, that is."

"Still." She warned.

They all walked in, Dylan leading the other two who walked behind her.

"Margaret," she said. "this is my brother and his… friend, John Watson."

"Colleague." John said, looking at Dylan, that smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, you were at the inquiry last week, at Scotland Yard." She said, shaking John's hands.

"Yes, we were." Sherlock said. The four of them sat down at the table. An employee came and they ordered coffee.

"So, do you have anything that you can help us with?" Sherlock said.

"I really don't know what you want me to say. I have no idea why Mr. Colbert was murdered…"

"Oh, maybe he was not supposed to be murdered." Sherlock said, dramatically.

"Sherlock." Dylan called. "Let's do this slowly."

Sherlock looked at her and shut up, waiting. Dylan took the cue and turned to Margaret.

"What Sherlock is trying to say is that, maybe the poison was not supposed to kill Mr. Colbert."

"Who, then?" Margaret asked.

"We think it might have been directed to… Charlie."

Margaret looked at her and blinked, in shock.

"You mean, someone might want to kill Charlie? But why?"

"Why indeed!" said Sherlock. "Well, let us think together, shall we?"

Dylan rolled her eyes and put her hand to her head. There he went, ruining everything. But Sherlock stopped, looking at her.

"Okay." He said. "Maybe my sister can explain why."

Dylan thanked him silently and started again.

"The thing is, Margaret, there doesn't seem to be a link to Mr. Colbert's murder. Why was he murdered? He was not rich; he lived well, but not the kind of living who would make someone kill him for money. He had no family. No friends. He was as ordinary as he could be. Everybody in the neighbourhood liked him, he kept to himself. There was found no indication that he might have been involved in anything illegal when they searched his apartment and the store. But then there's Charlie. Charlie worked at the shop too. He was the one responsible for taking care of the flowers; Mr. Colbert usually took care of the paperwork. Charlie was the one who pulverized the plants every day. Sometimes he stood in the shop all alone." And she took a break, before continuing. "And then, there is the case that he is an alcoholic who beats you up and cheats on you."

Margaret seemed to shrink in her chair. She looked at Dylan and then at Sherlock and John.

"Who… how do you?"

"We saw the bruises in your body, Margaret. And my brother here gave Charlie my number and he invited me on a date the same day. It's basic thinking and association."

Margaret kept silence, looking at her hands that played nervously with the spoon.

"I… Listen, I know what you are thinking. But he is not a bad guy. I mean, he is temperamental and he drinks and loses it, but he always apologises. I know that he likes me…."

"No." Sherlock said, interrupting her. "That's not the reason why you never pressed charges on him, is it? It's not because you love him. Or because he loves you. It's because you're afraid. You're afraid he won't get arrested and he may come back and make it worse. Because you think that if you keep quiet he will beat you up to a certain level, not more than that." He pointed out, looking into her eyes. "And that's because of that reason, the only way you found to get away, that you tried and failed to kill him."

Margaret hid her mouth with her hand, with a shocked look on her face.

"You're so smooth." Dylan said, looking at him exasperated. She grabbed Margaret's hand. "Listen, what my brother is trying to tell is that, sooner or later the suspicion may fall on you."

"But it was not me!" The girl nearly shouted. "I swear! What kind of person do you think I am? Killing someone?"

"So, you didn't try to kill your boyfriend?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course not! That's ridiculous."

"With whom were you the night before Mr. Colbert died?"

"At home, alone." Margaret answered.

"The whole time?"

She thought for a second.

"No. I got home from work and Charlie came by to make me some company. Then he… drunk a little too much so I called my brother for help. I live in a small room right behind his house. He was with a friend that was about to leave so he came nevertheless and he helped take Charlie home. His girlfriend was at home already and we talked for a bit. Then Duncan, my brother, came back and said he had let him sleeping, so I went to my room. I was alone the rest of the night. You can ask my brother or his girlfriend." And she added. "I know what this may look like to you… but I would never kill someone."

Sherlock looked at the clock.

"Okay. We have to go anyway, thank you for your time." And then spoke to Dylan. "Make sure she does the right thing."

John looked at him and realised it was no use asking him anything. He simply followed him, waving goodbye to Dylan and Margaret.

Dylan took Margaret's hand again.

"You know we'll have to press charges right?" She asked, a look of pity flickering in her eyes. "You can't continue to take this kind of abuse."

"But I am sure that if he got cured, if he wanted to try rehabilitation, he could…"

"I know." Dylan said. "Still, I will have to ask you to go with me to the police. It's for the best."

"What if they also think I killed Mr. Colbert?"

"Well, we'll just have to prove them wrong."

Then Dylan helped Margaret get up, paid for the bill and the two went outside. It was time to do what was right.

Sherlock and John got to the studio Robert shared with his flat-mate. They knocked on the door and a young man with tight jeans and a bright coloured shirt opened the apartment door. He had a phone on his hand.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked.

"I don't know, can you?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh! May I help you, then?" The young man asked, standing corrected.

"We are from the police."

"Police? I swear we have no drugs in the house!"

Sherlock laughed.

"May we come in?" He asked.

The guy opened the door and let him and John pass.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess." He apologised, taking some clothes off the couch so they could sit. He then pointed at the couch.

"Sit, please." And waited for them to start.

"We are here because of the murder of Mr. Colbert. Does the name ring a bell?"

"Colbert?"

"Yes. Joseph Colbert. Florist."

"Oh, that's the one who was murdered the other day, right? I saw it in the newspapers. But, what do I have to do with it?"

"Your flat-mate didn't share it with you?"

"Hum, I am not sure what you are talking about."

Sherlock and John looked at each other.

"Robert is being interrogated because of Mr. Colbert's murder." John said, while Sherlock got up and inspected the small studio.

The man followed Sherlock going around the house with his eyes while answering John.

"You can't be serious. Why would he murder him? I mean, he's the most pacific person I know."

"Mr. Colbert was poisoned. And that poison was in the water your friend Robert delivers. So, he was called to give some testimonial."

Sherlock interrupted.

"Robert said he was here the night before the murder, with you. Is that true?"

"When was the murder?" he asked.

"Tuesday. Mr. Colbert was found death Tuesday in the evening, but the poison had to be put in the sprays the night before. Do you remember what happened that evening? On Monday?"

The guy thought for a while.

"Yeah. It was just like any night. I came home from university and Robert was not here so I assumed he went to Duncan's house. That's a friend of us, from University. Then, around 8 p.m. he came back. I was playing console a bit and Robert asked if I wanted to order some pizza. We ordered some pizza and then we sat to eat. Robert made some tea after and we played a board game but I felt a bit sleepy so the game didn't last too long. We decided to call it a night and went to bed. That's it." He finished.

"So, Robert was here the whole night?"

"Yes. He was still in bed when I woke up in the morning and, damn, did I sleep well that night."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, just been having some bad nights lately. School is kind of troubling me, and I also work, things with my boyfriend aren't going so well, so I just… Anyway, he was there the whole night. At least I think he was, like I said I slept pretty well and until late, but he was still in bed when I woke up." And he added. "Robert is a good guy. He's committed to what he does. Great student, one of the best in our class. Only surpassed by our friend, the great Duncan Smith!"

"What do you study?"

"Chemistry." He said, smiling. "It's tough, but damn, is it fun."

In that moment they heard the noise of a key being inserted in the door and it opened right after. Robert walked in the house.

"Oh, you're both here." He said, looking at Sherlock and John and then at his friend.

"Yes, but we have finished our questions already." Sherlock said.

"Did you got what you wanted? Did he confirm my story?"

"Yes, he did." Sherlock answered. He held the door open and asked, before leaving. "Has any of you ever heard the name Tacere Mors?"

Robert and his friend looked at each other. Robert answered.

"I don't think so. Have you?" He asked his friend.

"I don't know. I don't think so either. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just curiosity. Since both of you study chemistry."

"Oh, I wouldn't count on my memory for that!" Robert's friend answered. "And I've been missing many classes lately."

Sherlock took a good look at both of them and thanked them for their time, leaving the small studio.

In the meantime Sherlock was pacing ahead of John.

"Could you please go a bit slowly? We don't need to rush."

Sherlock looked behind and John understood he had forgotten he was there, following him.

"Sorry." He said, slowing down a little bit, to allow John to stay beside him.

"What are you thinking?" John asked.

"About Margaret. I was sure it was her." He said. "It made perfect sense. Abused by the boyfriend, cheated…"

"So, you think you can rule her out?"

"I believe so." He said. "This case is just… there are too many suspects and still, none."

"What do you mean, too many suspects? There are hardly any suspects, just people being interrogated for the sake of the investigation."

"Yes." Sherlock said, absented minded.

"Are you okay?" John asked. "You seem a bit off since you came back home from the morning walk."

"Yes, yes, I am fine." And he added. "We need to ask some questions to her brother as well. Maybe…"

"What?"John asked.

"What if he tried to kill him?

"Oh, come on!" John exclaimed. "Now everyone is a suspect?"

"We don't know. Let's pay him a visit."

"Do you mind if we stopped to eat, I am…"

"Hey, you two!"

It was Dylan, on the pavement, waiting for the cars to pass so she could cross the street. She approached them.

"Where are you going?"

"We were heading home. John here is hungry and I still want to make another investigation."

"Who?" Dylan asked.

"Margaret's brother." Sherlock said.

"What, you think he might have tried to kill Charlie? As in to protect the sister?" She asked.

"It's an option we can't rule out." Sherlock answered.

"Okay, so let's have dinner and then I can call her and maybe we can meet her and talk to her brother."

"No, I would rather go there now." Sherlock said.

"Well, yes,t here are a lot of other things I rather do and a whole lot of others I should be doing, but you have to eat. You can't live on air. And if John is hungry, then dinner it is. Let's go. We'll talk to him after dinner. It's still early anyway. And I think I need a small break, this case is having too many suspects and too many alibis and too little reasons to have happened."

And without any other choice Sherlock was dragged by Dylan with John smiling behind them.


	5. Deductions

John was helping Dylan cook dinner and Sherlock was playing on his violin. That was a sign he was thinking. They heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock stopped playing and called her.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

Instead of going to her own apartment she entered the living room of theirs.

"Hello Sherlock, dear. I was just going to eat something. Are you okay? Do you have any more news on the case?" She asked.

Dylan came out of the kitchen and saw the look on Mrs. Hudson's face. She was still weary from all she had been through. Sherlock held her by the shoulders and made her sit in his chair.

"We are on to it." He answered.

"Would you like to have dinner with us?" Dylan asked. "There's plenty of food for everyone."

"Are you sure, dear, I don't want to be a burden."

"Nonsense." Sherlock said. "You are staying."

"And dinner's ready." This time it was John who announced it, he was just finishing setting the table.

They all sat around the table and ate. Mrs. Hudson was telling things about Mr. Colbert.

"He was such a nice man. A bit younger than me, and so polite." She said. "Quite reserved, though. Wouldn't share much." She finished the dessert – a cake she brought from her own apartment – and said to Dylan. "You really are a good cooker. Even Sherlock is eating."

Mrs. Hudson, Dylan and John looked at Sherlock and laughed. He smirked at them.

"You should try her pancakes, then. Best in the world." He said, looking at her sister with eyes full of admiration. She smiled at him.

"You know what? We are going to leave but as soon as I get back home I will make some for you! And I'll bring it downstairs!" Dylan promised.

"Oh, you better do that! I will be waiting." Said Mrs. Hudson, smiling.

"It's promised." Dylan assured.

"We should get going then." Sherlock said. He got up and out the plates on the kitchen sink. Dylan, John and Mrs. Hudson got up as well and Mrs. Hudson was starting to undo the table.

"No way." John said. "You need to rest a bit."

"Well," Mrs. Hudson said. "Then I'll be in my apartment. The soap opera is about to start."

And waving them goodbye she went down the stairs. John and Dylan finished tidying up the kitchen a bit and Sherlock picked up his phone. On the other side was Lestrade.

"Yes, Lestrade?" Sherlock said. "I will need some information you can provide me."

He continued talking to the phone and John asked Dylan.

"Why is he like that to you?"

"Like what?"

"It's the way he looks at you. He is so proud."

"What, you don't think he has reasons to be proud? I have two major degrees, you know?" she joked.

John laughed.

"Yes, I do know that. It's that he is always so cold to Mycroft, so… distant and unaffected. And then suddenly with you it's… well… we can call it affection."

"You never heard that you get the love you give back? I am not afraid to show him I love him, as well as I am not afraid to tell him I will not take his rudeness. Sherlock knows he can't play around with me. I am too clever and too… inpatient to deal with his mannerisms and his craziness. So, if he pisses me off, he will have something he won't like in return. The fact that he is a genius does not amaze me. That's why he respects me. And that's why he loves me. Even though he does not always show it." And she added, looking at John with interest and smiling. "Don't worry, John, he loves you too, in his own way."

"No." John said. "That's not what I meant. I know what people think but I am not… gay."

Dylan laughed.

"I know." She said. "And you wouldn't be very lucky if you were, because neither is he. There are many ways of loving someone, John, not all of them need to be romantic. He never cared for many people. Yet he cares about you, about your happiness. Even if he acts like an idiot most of the time."

John nodded. That was a very accurate description of Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock hung up the phone.

"Okay, I got everything. The addresses I need. I will have to call him back to ask for more information later. I want to know the name of the suspects and the victim and other details we had no access to."

"Why didn't you ask him now?" John inquired.

"He was busy." Sherlock said. "Let's go?"

He put his coat on and Dylan and John did the same. They came out of 221 B and Dylan sensed something.

"Why are you upset?" she asked.

"I am not upset." He said.

"Yes you are." And she looked at him, as he called a taxi. "Wait a second! Of course. Lestrade was on a date with Molly, wasn't he? That's why he was busy."

The taxi pulled over and they got in. Sherlock did not answer. Dylan, who sat in the front sit looked behind, and stared at Sherlock.

"What?" he asked.

"I made you a question."

"I don't know what you want me to answer. I didn't know if inspector Lestrade was on a date or not, I didn't bother to ask."

"You are so full of it." She said. "The only consultant detective in the world, still can't lie. Just because you didn't ask doesn't mean you didn't deduce it." She pointed out. "Now it makes sense you were upset."

John looked at Sherlock who did not answer and looked outside the window instead. The taxi made a stop at the address Sherlock had given the taxi driver and they got out of the taxi.

Sherlock approached a house, followed by Dylan and John. Before they could get close and ring the doorbell a woman came outside. She was helping a man carry another one, who seemed pretty drunk. It was Margaret and Charlie. The other man was probably Duncan, Margaret's brother. A taxi stopped at the entrance of the house. Margaret looked at Sherlock, Dylan and John and a look of shame covered her face. In the meantime the other man put Charlie in the taxi.

"Can you please take him, Mark? You know the address. Here is the payment for the ride." He said to the taxi driver. "Thanks."

And he turned around. Margaret talked to Dylan.

"You are here to talk to me again?" she asked.

"no." Dylan said. "We would like to talk to your brother, if possible. It's that him?" Margaret looked at the man and nodded. And Dylan inquired. "Why is he here again? I thought the police would do something about it."

"He… I removed the charges against him." Margaret admitted. "He apologised. He agreed to treat himself. He will be interned next week."

Dylan looked at her, but didn't say anything. Duncan was staring at his sister and at the three of them. Margaret introduced.

"They are from Scotland Yard. They are questioning people again."

"Oh." Duncan said. "I thought I was out of the case. I mean, I was questioned. The poison was not in the flowers."

"Yes." Sherlock said. "Still, we can't seem to find any connections to the crime so we are interrogating everyone again. Would you mind giving us your testimonial again?"

"Not at all. Please, come inside." He invited.

They all got in, followed by Margaret.

"Do you need me?" she asked. "I would like to rest, it's been a tough week and I need to work in the morning."

"Not at all." Sherlock allowed. "Nice dreams."

Only John and Dylan noticed the tone of sarcasm in his voice. Dylan whispered.

"It's sweet dreams, not nice dreams."

They entered the house Duncan shared with his girlfriend. It was a small but tidy place, with as much furniture as was needed for two people who lived alone. Duncan invited them to sit down and offered them drinks. Then he also sat and he said.

"I would like to thank you for what you've done for my sister. She's been a wreck for years and hopefully things will turn out okay."

"No problem. We only wanted to help." It was Dylan who thanked. "She seems like a nice girl."

"She is." He said. "She was not very lucky with the boyfriend she chose, but I guess we all make mistakes."

Sherlock, who was looking around the living room sat down as well, next to Dylan and John.

"So, how can I help you?" Duncan asked.

"I assume you have an alibi for the night before the death of Mr. Colbert?" he asked.

"Well, the police did ask me what I was doing. They also asked my girlfriend. I was here at home."

"Were you alone all day?"

"No. I came home from University and Robert – a friend of mine…"

"That's the spray's seller." Sherlock said.

"Ah, yes, of course. He was interrogated as well." And he continued, clearing his throat. "Well, he came by to study; He had missed a few classes in the last month so I was keeping him up to date on the subjects we learned. He's also as quick learner so we had time to revise pretty much everything he missed quite fast. We watched a movie after. Then my girlfriend got home from work and he left. Dylan came to call me little after so I could take Charlie home…."

"But you don't usually take him home, do you?" Sherlock asked. "You just put him in the cab and then the same taxi driver takes him home and puts him in bed to sleep."

"Depends." Duncan explained. "If he is drunk but still conscious I let him go with the cabbie. If he is basically asleep then I go with him as well. That's what happened."

"Then you came back home."

"Yes." He said. "I came back, I and my girlfriend had dinner… We invited Maggie but she was too tired, so we ate alone. Then we just watched some TV and went to sleep."

"And the next day Mr. Colbert was dead."

"Yes. I knew it as soon as I got to work. Charlie called me. I was interrogated after a while."

"So you have no idea why Mr. Colbert was murdered?"

"No. I knew him like I knew all the other florists. Worse, maybe, as the shop was recent." And he asked. "You said my sister that the target might not have been Mr. Colbert. Might have been Charlie."

Sherlock looked at him, from head to toe.

"Yes." And he added. "And we actually thought you might have been the murderer."

Duncan froze in his seat. When he was able he spoke.

"What? Why would I try and kill Charlie?"

"Because he mistreats your sister. And I don't believe any brother would like to see their sister being mistreated." Sherlock pointed out.

"I don't. I swear I tried to talk her into leaving him. Thousands of times. I do not approve their relation. I got him the job at Mr. Colbert to see if he could get some responsibility, because so far it had been my sister to provide for him. And he was going okay about the job, but continued to drink and refused to go to rehabilitation." And he paused, rearranging his thoughts. "Listen, I see what you are saying. It makes sense, even. But I would never kill anyone. If my sister wants to be with him that's her own damn choice. I talked to the inspector again, before they took Robert for interrogation. The inspector said that whoever poisoned the water's spray had to put the poison in the water the night before. I was here, with my girlfriend. And I know you are thinking that she might lie to protect me, but what kind of person lies to defend someone who kills another person? She wouldn't be my girlfriend if she was capable of doing something like that. And I don't believe killing someone solves any problems. I do love my sister, but I would never do something like that."

Sherlock's phone beeped. A message. He read it, thought for a moment and got up. Dylan, John and Duncan did the same.

"Very well." He said, "We heard what you had to say. We'll see what we can do to find the murderer." He gave a nod in John and Dylan's direction, asking them to follow him. They did and walked out the door. Then Sherlock turned around and asked. "You study chemistry, right?"

"Yes." Duncan assented.

"Have you ever heard of Tacere Mors?"

"That's the poison that killed Mr. Colbert."

"I mean in your classes."

"Yes. We had a lecture about poisons, one of which was that one. Tacere Mors – Silent death."

"Very well. Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome." Duncan said. He shook his head as a sign of goodbye and closed the door.

Sherlock walked for a while.

"What now?" John asked.

"Now we find a taxi and go home."

"So, you don't think he is the murderer?"

"No." was all Sherlock said. Something was bothering him, in a small corner of his mind but he couldn't put his hand to what it was. He signalled to a taxi that stopped and the three of them entered, riding to 221 B Baker Street.

When they got to the apartment Sherlock picked his laptop and sat in the couch. Dylan thought it would be probably better to leave him alone.

"Okay," she said to John. "I am going to make those pancakes to Mrs. Hudson, as promised. I will take the things with me and will make her some company. She has been alone the last couple of days. Would you like to come as well?" She asked John, putting the ingredients she would need in a plastic box.

"No, I think I will just watch some TV while he's busy."

"Okay, I'll be downstairs if any of you need me." She said and left the apartment. She called Mrs. Hudson's name before entering the apartment.

"Yes, dear, I am here." Mrs. Hudson said, getting up.

"Still watching your soap opera?"

"Yes, they are so silly it angers me sometimes. But I just can't stop watching them."

"Do you mind if I cook here? So I can keep you company a little bit longer?"

"Of course! Here," Mrs. Hudson said, bringing Dylan to the kitchen and opening the door of the cabinet. "you got all the pans and I also have ingredients.."

"No, I have all I need with me. I just really need that pan." She said and grabbed it. She started mixing the ingredients in a bowl and Mrs. Hudson started to talk.

"They came here to bring me some of Joseph's things." She said, a bit sad." His gold necklace, a photo album he had in his place. Oh, he was such a handsome man when he was younger as well! He really had some exotic traits."

Dylan laughed.

"Would you like to see it?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Of course." Dylan agreed.

Mrs. Hudson left the kitchen and came back a minute later with the album underneath her arm. She then opened it.

"Come here and take a look. Some of the photos are loose from the album. Here, look at this."

Dylan stopped what she was doing and sat at the table, seeing Mrs. Hudson going through the photos. They both looked up as they heard Sherlock playing his violin.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Dylan asked Mrs. Hudson. "Him playing the whole night."

"Oh, he plays quite well." Mrs. Hudson said. "Of course it get annoying after a while, anyway. But after a few weeks you eventually get used. I never did, so I just bought some earplugs."

Dylan laughed real hard. Mrs. Hudson was such a nice person, what a shame Sherlock gave her so much trouble sometimes.

"Oh, look at him in this one, so young. What a piece of heaven he was!"

Dylan picked the picture Mrs. Hudson was giving her and held it in her hand. The smile vanished from her face. No, it couldn't be.

Upstairs Sherlock had closed his laptop and started to play his violin. After a few minutes John talked.

"Could you please stop playing so… aggressively? It's quite annoying."

Sherlock looked at him and stopped. Then he frowned. He looked at John, as if he was not seeing him and opened his laptop again. He went through the e-mails he had received asking for help. He stopped at one and read it. He got up, looked at the wall and at John, a look of surprise in his face, as if all pieces had fit together in that moment. Dylan walked in the room, half-running and holding what seemed to be a picture in her hand.

Sherlock shouted "Of course!" and at the same time Dylan said: "Sherlock, look at this!"

John got up and both he and Sherlock took the picture from her hand. There, in the black and white picture, was an image of Robert. Except that it wasn't him. Not exactly.

"This looks like Robert." John said. "But it doesn't."

"That's because it is not!" Sherlock said, turning around in the room. "Of course, it was so obvious! It was right there! Everything! How could I have miss it!" and he stopped. "We need to call Lestrade. Let's go!"

And without further explanation he walked outside, stopped a taxi and called Lestrade on the way to Scotland Yard.

They were waiting for a few minutes when Lestrade showed up. John was a little confused but Sherlock and Dylan were to hyper to actually tell him anything. The only thing he could get from Dylan was "Robert is his son." Which didn't make much more sense than all the rest.

Inspector Lestrade walked in the building and made a gesture so Sherlock, John and Dylan walked into his office. He was half-dragging Robert, who seemed to be giving him a hard time.

"Why do I have to come here again? I already said what I had to say." He was shouting.

Lestrade asked him to calm down and sit. He did as it was commanded. Then Lestrade turned to Sherlock and whispered.

"This better be serious, I was able to bring him here without a warrant but I can't make him stay. And you haven't told me what this is really about, so I am trusting you to stop making a fool of myself."

"Don't worry." Sherlock assured him.

He sat across from Robert.

"You are here accused of the murder of your father."

Robert frowned his eyebrows and half-smiled.

"Is this a joke? Yesterday I was being interrogated on the murder of Mr. Colbert, today I killed my father." The sarcasm in his voice was filled with something Dylan recognised as hate. And fear.

"Well, they happen to be the same person, so I wouldn't use the word joke here, thought all this does seem like a very funny story."

Robert blinked.

Lestrade asked.

"What do you mean, his father?"

Without breaking eye contact with Robert, Sherlock started to explain all the events.

"I asked details, information about all the possible suspects, people you have interrogated." He said to Lestrade. "This man here is Robert . Or, to be more specific, Roberto Silva Santos. He is original from Brazil. He came to London last year to study. He also happens to be an orphan of father, his father died when he was seven. Or at least, that's what his father made everyone believe. He and Robert's mother got a divorce and his father got tired of paying for the child support. So he faked his own death and left Brazil. He probably travelled and lived like a nomad for a while until a few years ago he decided to move definitely to London. Seemed like a far enough place. And he would never think that his own son would end up here. Never thought he would be able to fend so well for himself, that he would work hard to pay for a degree in a good University. Unfortunately for the father, he was able to do that and more. And Robert found him. He was young when his father left but they looked so alike, the same features, nose, eyes. Robert would recognise him anywhere. He confronted him. Said he would tell on him, let the disguise fall for everyone to see, unless he payed for all he owed him all these years. But Robert's father did not fall for the blackmail. So Robert had a very interesting lesson about poisons. About one specific poison. "One of the best of the class", that's what his friend called him. And he learned about Tacere Mors – Silent Death. A poison that worked on flowers, no smell, no colour, except turning water slightly yellow. Not a problem, as he had the perfect mean to deliver it. Flower's spray. With colourful plastic bottles. So he made a plan in his head and decided to take his revenge." Sherlock got up. "Very clever. But you set yourself the moment you said you did not remember ever heard the name of the poison. You friend Duncan had, you two go to the same classes together. You revised the classes together. Still, he remembered, and you didn't."

Robert looked at him but did not flinch.

"That's ridiculous." He said. "I have an alibi. My friend…"

"Your friend was drugged!" Sherlock said, out loud. "He hasn't slept well for weeks! Still, the night before Mr. Colbert was dead he slept the whole night! He mentioned you played some game, that you made tea for both of you, and then he started to feel sleepy. And then, of course, there's your middle name."

"What about it?"

"Silva." Sherlock said. And he turned to John. "I received an e-mail this week. A Brazilian woman asking me for help. "Two weeks ago my son called me saying he had seen his father again. It seems crazy, I know, but he knew him very well and if that is true, as my son says it is, I am afraid of what he might do. Please, help me." Her name was Rosalia Silva. Her husband had died, disappeared mysteriously. And there, here you are, studying in London, Roberto Silva. Robert for your friends. You keep a picture of her in your apartment. But not of your father. There was no picture of your father there. I wonder why, if he had died you would want to have a picture of him. Unless you always suspected. Then you would seek revenge."

"You are insane." That's all Robert said. "It's a very entertaining story, I must admit, a bit delusional, but quite imaginative."

"Then maybe you will like the other version more."

Dylan approached the table, looking Robert in the eye; Sherlock looked at her, surprised.

"You did not just want to kill Mr. Colbert, did you?" she asked but did not wait for an answer. "No. it was a good chance to waste it away. Kill two birds with one stone."

Dylan stopped to appreciate the effect her words were having on him. Then she continued.

"You tried to kill Charlie as well, Didn't you?"

He smiled, a mocking kind of smile.

"Honestly, you sure are brother and sister. You are all crazy."

"Well, I don't have a proof for this, unlike my brother. But I can tell you this. The first time I saw you outside, with Margaret, I thought you were a couple. But then you said you weren't and that bothered me. I am not the type to make mistakes, certainly not when it comes to figure out relationships between people. I can see with a glance if they are related, if they like each other, if they are close or not. And I saw that about you two. But then Margaret denied it. And I accepted. But after listening to my brother it hit me." She got a bit closer. "You like her. Not just like her, love her. You met her through her brother and fell right away. But she had a boyfriend. And you would have left her alone. But then you met Charlie. And he was a drunk, an alcoholic. And she told you, that he beat her up, didn't she? You were not just friends, but confidents. She told you everything and you knew how he treated her. And you asked her to leave him and love you instead. But she always refused. She likes you too. But somehow, she could never set herself to leave him. No matter how bad he treated her. Because she liked him as well. So you started to have trouble accepting the situation. How could she be with someone like that when you could make her so happy? Then, he started working with Mr. Colbert – your father – and an idea came to your mind. You could do it. You could kill them both and get your revenge and the girl. It was the perfect scenario…" She made a small pause and took a deep breath. "You knew he drank every day. You knew they put him into a taxi every day. That he would get home and fall asleep and wake up with a hangover the next day. So you went home, drugged your friend. Then you pretended to go to sleep so your friend would see you. You let him fall asleep, got up. Went to Charlie's house, stole his key – that way you didn't have to break into the store – and you put the poison in the water they were using. You left the key on the door. Charlie told the police his keys were in the door the night before the murder, but that was something that had happened before, so they didn't pay much attention to it. So with that, by leaving the keys on the door you would avoid going back to Charlie's house and be seen. Getting into Charlie's house and get the key was easy peasy. Duncan would never lock the door, as he would have to lock it on the outside and then Charlie wouldn't be able to get out in the morning, and Charlie was too drunk to do it himself."

Robert looked at her and Sherlock rubbed her shoulder in a friendly way. She had seen the other half.

"Listen." Robert was too calm. "You two are talking and I am listening and you speak as if you made perfect sense. But I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, wait." Said Dylan. "Of course!" she got up of her chair. "Margaret's in it too, isn't she? She helped you! She got Charlie drunk and stole his key and you went and put the poison! That way she would not have to be involved in case things went wrong. That's why she took Charlie back! No suspicions! She loved you too, didn't she? You were going to be together at last!"

She sounded maniac. A great act that had the desired effect.

"No!" Robert shouted. "Margaret has nothing to do with it! It was all me, okay? She didn't know anything! I just figured that if she didn't have Charlie, she would take me…"

There was a sadness in his eyes, a deep emotional crisis, a battle he stopped fighting. He put his hands in his head, covering his face. "Please, I swear, leave her be, she has nothing to do with it…"

He was pleading. And with pleading came the confession.

"It was all me…"

Lestrade looked at Sherlock and Dylan. He then called someone to come and handcuff Robert.

"You will be judged on the murder of Mr. Joseph Colbert and if we are lucky, on attempt of murder of Charlie Stevenson."

"Maybe you would like to add one more to the attempt." Sherlock said, before they could take Joseph out of the room.

Robert turned around.

"Dr. Anne Black was a great chemist. You killed her too."

"What are you talking about?" This time was Lestrade's voice that resounded in the office.

"In the news this week. A house exploded. A woman died. That woman was Dr. Anne Black. She lived in a very old house, in the outskirts of town. She lived in very bad conditions. She was once very bright and well known. But she lost her daughter and from that day on she lost herself as well. She lost her job, got away from her family and was homeless for a while. Then she started selling things. Drugs, mostly. As the great chemist she was she knew what was needed. Then she also started selling in the black market. Poisons, too. That's how you got the poison –Tacere Mors – from her. She had a very strict routine. She used to sell all night, when there was a minor chance for her to be caught, and then she would go home and sleep. You followed her steps, and learnt her routine." Sherlock said, turning to Robert. "And you knew that, no matter what, you couldn't be caught. That her, if well paid, would turn you in right away. So you had to get rid of her as well. You went to her home – if you can call it that, quite a lousy place to call home – a few hours before the time you knew she got home, and turned on the gas. Not much, just enough. Enough for her to die while asleep. Because that's what she did every day. She got home and fell asleep right away. Then you would go there and turn the gas off, and she would die and no one would know how. She had enemies, of course, and the police would not pay attention to a drug addict. But things didn't turn out the way you expected. That's the way you kill. Silently. With poison, with gas. But you paid her well, and she felt like going for a walk, and bought cigarettes. Then she came home, and opened the door. And BOOM!"

Sherlock finished the sentence with a shout. Robert blinked, and seemed to shrink, his hands tight behind his back, shaking.

"Don't forget to charge him on that too." Sherlock said to inspector Lestrade. "The news came in the newspaper this week. She was a great chemist. And one of the cleverest people I knew. Of course the news just stated a woman that died. It would be nice if her name had come in the headlines. She would have deserved it."

Lestrade looked at him, a bit confused and amazed.

Sherlock waved him goodbye and started to walk towards the entrance.

He stopped on the pavement, when he, Dylan and John were outside.

"How did you relate the cases at all?" John asked, still a bit shaken with all the information.

"Deduction." He said. "I went to her place this morning and then went to the lab. There were some plants in the backyard in water. I took some to analyse. They had Tacere Mors as well. She was experimenting the poison. The police didn't check the backyard because it was intact, only the house exploded."

Sherlock started pacing again. He was going to call a taxi but he needed the walk.

"Where did you know her from? The chemist?"

"I read about her on the news many years ago. "Great chemist loses it." So I met her on the street one day. She was my… dealer."

He looked at Dylan. Her eyes hardened a little bit and she looked away. It was still hard to think of her brother then. Painful, how a great mind like his had succumbed to the addiction. She shook her head and softened her look. It was all gone now.

They walked side by side, Sherlock, Dylan and John. Then Sherlock asked John.

"May I have your phone?"

"What for?" John asked, but gave him the phone nevertheless.

"Here." Said Sherlock, turning to Dylan and passing her the phone.

"What?" she asked. "You want me to analyse it?"

"Hm, Hm." Sherlock confirmed.

"Why? Are you testing me?"

"I want to see if your skills are as good as they were."

"Haven't I proved that by now?" she asked, surprised.

"Humour me." Sherlock insisted.

She looked at him and then at John, that smiled a little.

"Very well." She commenced. "This was obviously given to you, not bought. It's expensive. You haven't been working on a regular basis for years, still the phone has e-mail, mp3… Things you probably don't use, so a gift it was. There are two names on the back. From Clara. And then Harry Watson, which means it was given to Harry as a present. I assume that Harry Watson must be your broth… no, your sister. It had to be someone close to you, a young person from the phone's features, so sister it is. Clara must have been her wife or a girlfriend, the three Xs on the back mean they had a lasting and close relationship. It's an expensive gift, so I would guess wife. Or ex-wife, in this case. You sister left Clara, otherwise she would have kept the phone, people keep things that had a meaning to them, unless it makes them feel guilty. And Harry had reasons to feel guilty. She was an alcoholic, as you can see from the marks here on the side, when she tried to plug the battery cable to charge the phone, hands shaking. This also shows she wanted you to keep in touch, something that doesn't happen regularly, obviously, since you don't know very well how to cope with her problem and you wouldn't be sharing the flat with a sociopath if you did. There." She said. And asked. "Okay, how accurate."

"Very accurate." John said, smiling.

"How did you know it was a sister?" Sherlock asked, stopping in the middle of the pavement.

"Well, it's quite obvious."

"How?" he asked again.

"Here, this scratches on the back."

"Those are key scratches. She used to carry it in her pocket."

"Yes, most of them are." Dylan said, "But there's a specific scratch here. Deeper and at the same level. That's not from the keys, that's from a phone charm."

"A phone charm?"

"Yes, a phone charm." She repeated. "And I don't know any man who uses phone charms. So it is obviously John's sister. Harry is a nickname, I suppose."

Sherlock looked at her and John laughed, pointing at Sherlock.

"Your sister's better than you."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing what a phone charm is. I don't think it is relevant for my job to know it, anyway."

"Well, you didn't know Earth moved around the Sun, and that proved to be quite necessary." John said.

"No excuses." Dylan said to Sherlock. "Constellations or phone charms, it doesn't matter. Knowledge is power."

And she laughed as well.

Sherlock grabbed her under his arm and messed up her hair. Then he held her shoulder and both of them walked beside John. With another case solved they wandered for a while and finally got to 221 B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson was till waiting for her pancakes.

 


End file.
